


No Need to Deal with Dragons

by TimTheToaster (tabletoptime)



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Based on the Enchanted Forest Chronicles, Fantasy AU, JayTim Week, M/M, Technically the rest of the Outlaws are also there, but they're cats so I won't tag them, though obviously I took some licenses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:28:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24511543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tabletoptime/pseuds/TimTheToaster
Summary: By about midday, Tim arrived at the edge of the Forest.The Enchanted Forest was many things- incredible, beautiful, fascinating- but easy to navigate was not one of them. The Forest had a bad habit of moving things around at its own discretion, so landmarking was a waste of time. Jason had anchored his cottage in place, a perk of witchcraft, but that just meant everything around it was constantly changing instead. Tim’s directions were, as a result, exclusively in terms of number of footsteps and turns. If he lost count he could very well end up on the entirely wrong side of the Forest while being none the wiser.In which Tim visits a witch in search of a baking utensil.
Relationships: Tim Drake/Jason Todd
Comments: 10
Kudos: 132





	No Need to Deal with Dragons

Tim blew his sweaty hair out of his eyes for what felt like the millionth time since he had set out. The sun had started behind the mountains he had set out from, but as he walked it had slowly arched over his head, and now, approaching midday on a dusty excuse for a road, it was baking. He was glad he had opted to swipe a pair of slightly scorched travelling boots from Bruce’s treasure room, as even the relatively sensible shoes he had brought with him into the dragon’s service would be pinching by now.

Bruce hadn’t needed to allow Tim the day off (ostensibly for his continued magical research but actually for his quest for a dragon-sized pie tin), but he hadn’t needed to accept Tim as his resident “captive” prince either. From what Tim had heard from some of the other captives (generally more literal in their cases than in his own), Bruce was an unorthodox dragon. He asked after Tim’s reading, despite almost certainly having read everything he owned more than once, and his organizational systems, and indulged his curiosity about dragon culture and customs. Oh it certainly helped with his role, enabling Tim to figure out appropriate meals for specific occasions with guests and act as more than a soundboard in Bruce’s occasional political brainstorming sessions, but mostly it was Tim’s own insatiable curiosity about their kind that flourished under the attention.

He couldn’t really help it, Tim had always been fascinated with dragons, so much so that his father had hoped he may one day slay one and bring their family and rather small kingdom some notable glory and a story to boast of in the Grand Courts of the land. Though Tim had accepted much of the martial training foisted on him, and had even enjoyed the burn and ache of exertion, battle had never really been his passion. He was more interested in the academics of running a kingdom, and the particular politics it took to manage relationships between powerful equals. If he had been an heir, this would have been ideal for his mother’s preference, but as a third born son he was supposed to accomplish one great feat, marry well, and settle into a country estate to live quietly and not cause any trouble. Which meant every one of his virtues was a threat to his eldest brother, and as a result he had been all but frozen out of his own family to ensure there could be no dispute over claims to the throne.

It had been a stroke of luck, when a village on the edge of the Hakwpeak Mountains had reported dragon sightings, and called for aid before the great beast could start eating their livestock or attacking their mines. Tim had scoffed, as if a dragon would cause problems so close to its home, if it truly was moving in. Oh there may be some initial loss and damage, but ultimately if the dragon wanted to live there, it would change things to its liking and then defend the area against other, potentially more unpleasant threats.

But his father had been genuinely concerned over the whole matter, and the potential property damage, so Tim had stepped up and offered to resolve the problem. The dragon would not harm any of the villagers, he had promised.

It just so happened he fulfilled that promise by stepping into its service rather than by slaying it.

Tim was well aware his family likely believed him dead, but that was probably for the best. Let them have a brave martyr, fallen in the defense of his people, rather than a son too skilled for his lot in life.

By about midday, Tim arrived at the edge of the Forest. This was where things could get tricky. 

The Enchanted Forest was many things- incredible, beautiful, fascinating- but easy to navigate was not one of them. The Forest had a bad habit of moving things around at its own discretion, so landmarking was a waste of time. Jason had anchored his cottage in place, a perk of witchcraft, but that just meant everything around it was constantly changing instead. Tim’s directions were, as a result, exclusively in terms of number of footsteps and turns. If he lost count he could very well end up on the entirely wrong side of the Forest while being none the wiser. 

That would certainly put a dent in his pie-making timeline.

As he walked, Tim couldn’t help the nervousness that ran along the edges of his counting. He wasn’t worried too much about the denizens of the Forest, he  _ had _ come armed, but more so about seeing Jason again.

Their first meeting had been unexpected, and Tim’s stomach still swooped at the memory of those broad shoulders backed by sunlight at the entrance to Bruce’s cave, demanding to meet the dragon’s newest prince, and asking after a book. Tim had managed to get through the conversation without embarrassing himself too badly, but Jason hadn’t seemed particularly impressed either. 

Not that Tim should  _ care _ about impressing him, it was just. Jason had been Bruce’s last prince, who had left to pursue a career in magic that Bruce hadn’t cared for, and apparently his departure had been rather explosive, and responsible for Bruce’s move closer to Tim’s kingdom. Tim knew that Bruce was generally content with his service, but there were times he would taste something Tim had made based off of a recipe, and seem to startle ever so slightly, as if it hadn’t tasted like he expected it to. Or he’d pass something without looking, at a height clearly meant for someone noticeably taller than Tim. 

None of it was a big deal, it was just things Tim couldn’t help but notice, and it sometimes made him feel like he was just a servant on loan until the real staff returned. It would be nice to have some kind of validation from his predecessor that he was doing a good job.   
  


He was very determinedly  _ not _ thinking about the way the afternoon sun had gotten caught in Jason’s eyes, more beautiful than any of the gems in Bruce’s hoard.

Tim’s meticulous counting didn’t fail him, and, though he couldn’t really see the sun through the dense tree branches, it didn’t feel like much later that he arrived before a cozy looking cottage behind a bright red fence.

The gate swung open soundlessly as he approached, and at its motion a long-haired ginger cat leapt from a tree and ran into the house through an open window. A moment later, the door opened as well.

“Come in!” Jason called, though Tim couldn’t see him through the doorway. “I’m in the middle of something so you’ll have to wait but there’s some tea in the pot you can help yourself to.”

Invitation given, Tim walked in and very nearly tripped over a large black and white cat that laid across the doorway. It blinked up at him in contempt, before rising with a stretch and curling up a few feet away.

Jason was at a cauldron set along the wall, just out of view of the door frame, spoon in one hand and a bundle of herbs in the other. He glanced over his shoulder and those bright eyes were no less breathtaking in the green-gold-blue firelight from under his cauldron.

“The pot is on the stove to your left, mugs in the cupboard next to it. No milk at the moment, but there should be some sugar. This’ll just take me another minute, assuming  _ someone _ ,” he turned a glare to yet another cat, this one also ginger but short-haired and with distinctive markings around its eyes. “Gets off their lazy ass and helps me.”

The cat meowed loudly, but got up from where it was lazing against the heated stones of the hearth and trotted to Jason’s side, staring intently at the cauldron.

Tim helped himself to some tea in a chipped blue mug, not bothering with sugar since he preferred milk anyways, and turned to watch Jason work. There was something mesmerizing about the sway of the flames and the movement of his shoulders beneath his fitted shirt. He reached into one of his billowing sleeves and pulled out a jar full of shimmering powder, which he added a pinch of before returning the jar to his sleeve. And then it was a horn he scraped a piece from. And a bundle of dried leaves. A stone. More powder.

Eventually, Jason gave the whole thing a series of complicated stirs, and watched it for a moment. Tim had no idea what he could see in that pot, but he pushed down the urge to join him and peer inside. 

“Alright, that should be good to sit for the next few hours. Roy, if you could keep an eye on it so we don’t all explode, that would be great,” he spoke first to the cat before turning fully to Tim, wiping away the sheen of sweat across his brow. “Now, what brings Bruce’s new pet to my home?”

Tim shoved away the spark of irritation at the name. He’d heard worse from some of Bruce’s guests. “I was hoping to borrow a pie tin. We don’t have one big enough for the dinner party that Bruce is hosting in a few days, and I wanted to make a shepherd’s pie as a starter.”

“And what makes you think I have a dragon-sized pie tin?” Jason asked with a stupidly attractive raised brow.

“Bruce mentioned you took a lot of his baking tools when you left, and seemed surprised when I couldn’t find one of the right size. I figured the odds were decent you still had it as some kind of spiteful gesture,” Tim shrugged. 

The long-haired ginger emerged from the door at the back cottage and wound itself around Tim’s legs, nearly knocking him over with the force of its attention.

Jason laughed. How dare he make it sound like sunshine. “That’s quite some deduction, pretty boy. Yeah I think I have one somewhere in one of my back rooms, but you’re going to have to go find it yourself, and you had better bring it back here when you’re done. Or I’ll swing by your cave, and unsort everything I can get my hands on.”

Tim stared at him in open-mouthed betrayal. Treasure sorting and library management was no joke, and it had taken him  _ weeks _ to get everything where it was now. His system was layered and complex, and its ruination was not an idle threat. Jason had to know that, didn’t he?

But he rallied, and tried to push back his automatic bristling. He had a tin to retrieve. “I should be able to bring it back in about two weeks, assuming nothing dramatic comes up. One time Clark came over, and he ended up borrowing me to help his prince catalog his zoo. I ended up being gone for the better part of a month, so I can’t make any hard promises on timing, but I’ll do my best.”

“That’s really all I can ask. Bruce isn’t exactly a fan of keeping anyone informed on what’s happening or what’s coming. I get it,” Jason said, a hint of warmth edging his previously flippant expression. “You’re looking for the storage room, through the back there.”

Tim nodded and went to the door. It opened to… A bedroom. He glanced behind him, confused, to where Jason was watching him with a grin and raised eyebrows. 

There wasn’t another door he could try. Jason had said back room _ s _ , hadn’t he? And based on the outside of the building there really shouldn’t have been space for more than one additional room. Tim’s thoughts drifted back to the frankly absurd number of things Jason had been keeping in his sleeves.

Right, he was a witch. So this was probably a witchy thing.

Tim closed the door, and thought very specifically about a storage room. This time, the door opened to a pantry. Closer, but no. Again, and this time he got a closet. Frustrated he tried again, and it was back to the bedroom.

He turned, to ask Jason if there was a reason his door was being so uncooperative, and found Jason standing directly behind him, a hint of red in his ears. “Sorry, the door is paying too much attention to me to hear you properly. I can fix that, but I need you to trust me, okay?”

“Trust you with what exactly?” Tim squinted up at him, ignoring what standing this close was doing to his stomach.

“Can I kiss you?”

Tim was pretty sure his heart stopped, and the butterflies in his stomach flooded his throat, stopping him from doing more than squeaking out, “ _ Excuse me? _ ”

“Can I kiss you?” Jason repeated, voice wavering a touch this time. “It’ll, uh, make the door see you as something that’s supposed to be here instead of a guest, so it’ll listen more to where you want to go.”

“And you can’t just open the door for me?” Tim’s voice was still about half-an-octave too high, but he really couldn’t help it.

The red from Jason’s ears had crept down his neck and Tim kind of wanted to trace it with his fingers. “I  _ could _ , but if you’re going to come over again it makes sense to get this sorted sooner rather than later. So can I kiss you?”

He was probably going to die in this homey little cottage, but he really did need that pie tin, and kissing was a normal magic thing, right? This was just a shortcut or something to avoid a whole ritual, no big deal.

Tim nodded, and shoved his hands behind him before they could do something stupid like reach out.

Jason stepped even closer, one of his warm, dry hands cupping Tim’s jaw, a thumb brushing across his cheekbone. There was a flicker of things in his eyes, a heat and a shine that Tim wasn’t certain was entirely natural, though it was beautiful. One of them, though Tim couldn’t say who, tilted his head up as Jason leaned down.

Their lips met in a dry press, soft, chaste, and tingling like some of the artifacts in the hoard that needed to be handled with gloves. The feeling skittered down Tim’s spine, a shudder chasing after it, and then it was like the whole world was a book pressed into place on a shelf.

The whole cottage was alive and shining without light, the three cats like stars glowing against a backdrop, and Jason was brighter still. Brighter, even, than dragonfire, and infinitely more comforting. Tim wanted to press closer, to wrap himself in the sense of  _ welcome _ and  _ belonging _ , but before he could move, the hand on his face fell away and Jason stepped back.

His eyes were wide, that flicker from before now a steady pulse. 

Even just a foot of distance helped, and Tim was able to push away the quiet longing that yawned in his chest. “Was… That how it was supposed to go?”

Jason shook his head mutely, hand flexing at his side.

Tim cleared his throat, studiously ignoring the heat in his cheeks, and carefully unclasped his hands from behind him. “Right, well. I’m going to. Find that pie tin, and you can consult your books or something, and then we can talk about whatever just happened?”

“Yeah...” Jason said faintly, before shoving a hand into his sleeve. “I mean. Yes, that’s a good plan. You go first, since I’ll need to get to my library.”

“Right. I’ll see you in a bit then,” Tim turned on his heel, back to the door, and this time got a storage room on his first try. He also ignored the muttering behind and inside him that begged him to turn around.

Work first, and then they could figure out whatever beautiful mess they’d accidentally stepped in. Tim wouldn't even try to pretend he wasn't looking forward to puzzling it out with Jason.

**Author's Note:**

> And here's Day 2! Based on the Enchanted Forest Chronicles by Patricia C. Wrede, which I loved as a child because Cimorene and Morwen are both goals. I too would love to be a witch in the woods with like ten cats. 
> 
> I'm fairly pleased with this one, even if I 100% messed around with the world a fair amount, and I hope other people also enjoy! I also didn't realize I was going to be mentioning pies two days in a row until it was too late. Says something about where my mind's been at, I guess :p
> 
> Have a great day, and I guess I'll see y'all again tomorrow <3


End file.
